


To Protect and Serve (An optional vignette)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:04:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	To Protect and Serve (An optional vignette)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Protect & Serve (optional sex scene) by Gloria Lancaster

Protect & Serve - optional sex scene  
by Gloria Lancaster

* * *

David rolled over in the big cold bed and woke up from a troubled doze. The room was dark, 4.15am blinked into 4.16am on the digital clock radio. The house was silent, lonely. Empty. Then a slight noise, as of someone on stealthy feet snicking the lock back... entering, the soft click of the lightswitch in the hallway and a narrow band of light under the bedroom door.

David sat up and waited, pushing back his hair, biting his lips and wondering if he had time to run to the bathroom to brush his teeth and still be back in the bed, tousled and unaware and casual, when Walter came to bed.

4.20am clicked. Hmmmmm - serious. David got out of bed and grabbed at Walter's robe, preferring it to his own, as always. Well, it was much too big but it was warm and most importantly is smelled of Walter. He padded down the stairs towards the living room, where he could see one lamp was burning. Silence. He paused, worried, then shrugged and pushed back the living room door and peered in.

Walter was sat in the middle of the couch, still in his trench coat, his briefcase at one side, head tipped back and face wiped clean of all expression - asleep. The sleep of utter exhaustion, when a man is drained to the dregs, hollow. Something inside David's chest twisted, that deep inside twist only Walter could cause, that connected him to the other man, beyond all the differences between them; years, career, character. That thing inside him that was simply 'I love him'. 

Taking care to be quiet as a mouse, David crept forward and slipped across Walter's knees with a liquid snuggling gesture of home coming, soothing Walter's instinctive grunt and startled, wide awake guilty gaze. "Relax," he breathed into Walter's neck and snuggled closer, cushioning his bottom down between Walter's spread thighs, tucking his legs around Walter's body, his toes warm inside Walter's trench coat and slipping his arms around Walter's shoulders. "Relax honey," he whispered softly and gave a short, nestling movement to rest his head on Walter's shoulder, above his heart. 

Slowly, Walter wrapped his arms around David, giving a groan of sheer weariness. "Ah," his voice was very low, "that's nice," and his cheek rested on top of David's head, a cherishing touch that made David smile. 

"Well?" David muttered into Walter's shirt, not entirely interested in a reply. 

"The Director called a crash meeting about that militia bomb threat in New York, the flight was delayed both ways," Skinner said and his head tipped back again and his arms loosened their hold on David just a little. "Fourth trip this week, I'm real tired of airline food and plastic coffee in hotel rooms." 

David nodded, taking the chance to rub his cheek over Walter's shirt front and breathe in the addictive warm smell of the man; even tired and stale like this, Walter smelled wonderful. "Poor honey," only in the dark quiet hours could David ever give rein to the crushing tenderness he felt for this man, the deep frightening power that Walter had over him. It was a fierce, raw thing, the need to care, to protect. It scared David sometimes, that he could feel this way. But he did, and sometimes it showed and Walter, the gentleman, never used it against him. 

David rubbed his cheek on the warm rumpled cotton again; it was nice when Walter was like this, that gorgeous addictive strength dimmed by fatigue just a little, it made David feel - important - that Walter needed someone to look after him just as much as David did. As everyone did, at times. 

"Honey, I'd carry you if I could," he teased just a little, feeling shaky now, this feeling could take him by the throat sometimes. "Or shall I get you a blanket and we'll stay here on the couch?" 

"No," with a real groan, "no, bed, I need to get out of these clothes, I feel - grungy," and Walter's face assumed an expression of extreme distaste, like a noble lion offered kitty food. "Help me, ok?" and David didn't think for one moment that Walter really needed his help, but it was sweet to be asked, to be given the chance to give that caring. 

"C'mon, man of mine," David coaxed and pulled Walter to stand up. Walter draped one heavy arm around David's shoulders and they climbed up the stairs together. David helped with clothes and shoes and socks and got his man naked and into bed where he belonged, then lay down on top, stretching out like a starfish all over Walter's splendid big body to warm him through. He pulled the blankets up around them both and settled down over Walter's heart again, the steady slow sure beat lulling David into wonderful hazy dreams, full of warmth and security. The last thing he sensed was Walter's hand on his hair, heavy and holding him in place. 

They had moved in the night, in their sleep, and now David was lying almost flat and almost on his side, Walter big and warm and curled behind him spoonwise, one of Walter's hairy legs over David's hips in a possessive and provocative manner. David gave a small squirm to get his arm out from under his own chest before the circulation was cut off entirely. He felt Walter move too, then surge back to cover him again, not smothering but heavy all the same. Despite a strict balanced diet, Walter was a hefty piece of machinery. David felt hot, all over, at the thought. 

Walter was asleep still, his breathing deep and regular against David's neck. David could feel the rough soft silk scratch of Walter's chest hair on his back, the tiny tough nubs of Walter's nipples. At first they had been soft and flat items, but David loved to suckle on them, so now, after some months, they were firm, peaking and sexy little things. Just the thought of sucking on Walter's nipples made David get hot all over, all over again, the heat centring down low in his body, blood rushing to fill his erection. He snuggled back into the hot centre of Walter's body just a little, squirming to get closer. 

Walter sighed something that sounded like 'baby' and held David closer in a possessive all encompassing hug, then relaxed again. Hmmmmm. David contemplated wicked thoughts of self indulgent and wanton behaviour: why resist? 

With breathless care, he eased himself out of Walter's arms, freezing and petrified when his man muttered something cross and rolled over. It made David's escape easier and he tiptoed over to raise the thermostat, pull back one set of drapes then made his silent way to the bathroom to take care of a few details, including that postponed teeth cleaning exercise. 

The early light was a gentle grey, the room was warm and cosy. David took a breath and began to pull back the sheets, very slowly and carefully. It was a flattering truth that Walter only slept soundly because they were together, that because he trusted David being there with him now, Walter Ex Marine and G-Man, could sleep deep and healthy. 

Sheets whispered across naked hairy smooth skin to reveal the body of this man, spread out before David - to explore, to cherish. David smiled, he couldn't help himself; although he looked at Walter all the time, and Walter didn't mind being looked at, this was so different, more important somehow, a private almost shameful desire. 

Walter's feet were large, well cared for and neat, the sturdy ankles marked here and there with odd long healed scratches, courtesy of two tours in Vietnam. His calves were hairy, muscular and his knees were not bony - all in all, about the best set of calves and knees David had ever seen. The thighs were beyond description but not appreciation, and David crept onto the foot of the bed to get closer and appreciate them in more detail, the contours and textures of hair and that smoother younger skin just there where the thigh met the groin. 

Walter moved with sleepy ease and rolled over onto his belly, making David grin - oh goody, now he got the rear view too. A fine panorama it was, hips and butt firm and muscular and large, powerful looking and capable of doing their job thoroughly. It took a big hammer to drive a big nail. The flanks hollowed enticingly, then the glorious white gluteal muscles stretched up to two thumb sized dimples just at the very top of the butt, then the sinfully trim waist and back. 

More scars here, old and white puckered hollows, each about the size of a dime. They had appalled David at first and then thrilled him too, a secret sexual thrill that Walter probably suspected and respected in equal measure. There was simply no denying it, Walter's job had a glamour that was arousing in and off itself. No wonder, David thought as he reached out one bold tentative hand to stroke the puckered flesh, no wonder people get off on uniforms and cops and guns. 

David felt his face get hot - these deeper darker things excited him at times, times when Walter came home hard and hungry and growling for him, times when Walter's power and strength demanded certain things, provoked certain things, inspired certain things, times Walter would take him in the hallway, on the floor, too mean and needing to get any further. 

David stroked the skin of Walter's back, simply for the sake of it, simply to touch him that way, not timid exactly, not grateful exactly, but a delicate mixture of the two, combined with gut tearing tenderness: all that power lying docile beneath his hand, here and now. David licked his lips. 

His touch lingered and aroused the sleeping lion. David pulled back a little as Walter rolled over, his face slack and heavy with sleep, his eyes lazy and short sighted and warmly brown. "Hmmmmm?" it was a deep inside question and then Walter stretched, shrugging his bones out from sleepiness. "Davey?" so mild, so amused. So loveable. 

"Just looking," David whispered, "can I?" and not waiting for permission, went right ahead, straddling Walter's legs and letting his eyes run up over the splendid frontage of sleepy naked rousing flesh before him. 

Walter only smiled a little and closed his eyes again, putting both arms up over his head in a satisfied way. "Whatever," Walter breathed and seemed to slip back to sleep again. 

David shivered - Walter didn't say 'whatever' very often but when he did, he meant it. He meant every word he said, ever. If he said 'Davey, get over here now', he meant it. If he said 'David, you are out of line', he meant it. And when he said 'whatever', David tended to shiver. 

David looked at his man, the powerful muscles and the trim, honed physique; Walter added new meaning to the words 'the prime of life', fit and ready for action or rest and able to do both with superlative ease. His skin, smooth and hairy and so soft, despite the battle scars, the hairs scattered with grey threads, soft and tending to curl endearingly around the luscious genitals, nipples now hard and mouth-watering, just the best chest, the strongest shoulders, the most 'hold me tight' arms ever. 

David settled back onto Walter's thighs with a low sigh of utter appreciation, reaching out to take Walter's right hand and examine it closely, the fit and flex of palm and thumb, the clean nails and strong capable fingers, capable of such delicacy and brutal strength too, bearing again the marks of old battles; this was Walter's gun hand. He turned the hand over to study it further, the way the skin stretched over the knuckles. Walter's hand was a full heavy possessive weight, a steady, reliable hand. His hands alone could make David fall in love all over again, could arose him instantly, shamelessly. Walter's fingers twitched just the tiniest bit and David let his hand drop, oh so casually, onto his own bare thigh. It rested there quite happily. 

Walter's other hand received the same treatment, a slow and thorough exploration, almost a cataloguing exercise, before it too found its home on David's other thigh. 

"Perfect," David muttered and hitched himself closer, further up Walter's body, the hands now cupping the front of his thighs, their genitals almost touching, each growing plumper and firmer. Watching Walter get hard was pure delight, the blood pooling slowly and surely to fill the impressive length of cock, a steady beat of arousal, no hasty pulsing or jerking but somehow stately and almost graceful. The balls were round and firm, fresh spheres of tempting tenderness in the smooth scrotal sac, begging to be touched and held, the weighty cock shaft above them long and wide and smooth, sturdy, blushing to a delicious mouth-watering rose pink colour, darker and riper at the tip, exposed like a luscious fruit that just begged to be eaten, sucked, suckled to give up its juices. 

"Honey, you look almost too good," David shook his head in mock despair but Walter only smiled and his hands slipped around to the back of David's legs to pull him higher up and closer. 

"Glad you approve," he said politely. David laughed and then gasped as Walter's fingers crept in towards his centre, Walter's hands warm and cupping his ass cheeks. 

"Wicked, wicked," David shook his head to try to clear it a little. 

"Hmmm hmmmm," Walter didn't sound too guilty or worried at all. "I guess I am at that," and did it again. 

David shuddered at the touch and what it promised, feeling a swift bright tingle rush through his body before settling down into his buttocks, almost like an electrical charge. He concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly, determined to take this slow, no matter how his body begged for it. He felt his cock harden further, desperate and beating hard, a jerky out of control thing, eager. He could never play hard to get with Walter.

He leaned forward, bringing their cocks together, the first contact of shaft against shaft dragging a whimper from his throat. "Oh, god, Walter," he muttered and rubbed at the place. "Oh, honey, oh yes, yes," again, his head bowing, curling over himself at the raw pleasure of this simple thing, cock to cock, balls mashed soft and hot against balls. 

Walter's hands were so still, so hard and controlling on his butt, David felt that electrical tingle grow deeper, hotter. He squirmed a little higher, the awkwardness of the position forgotten, finding the place easily, lifting his hips, feeling Walter's strength boost him that important inch or two higher, then he relaxed back onto the shaft, feeling the blunt impalement begin, a dull stretch at first, then peeling open, inward, the muscle stretching with exquisite slowness, making him gasp with something that was not - quite - pleasure. 

"Awwww, Davey," it was a warning, a worried, fretful sound and David spared his man a glance, Walter's eyes wide open and frantic, pining him with a glare. 

"S'okay," David breathed and relaxed a little more, having to bite his lips for a moment, then; "really, honey, it's okay, I'm wet for you, slicked up inside -oh...." a long groan then as David quivered, losing focus for a second, so that Walter slipped further into David's heat and long muscled darkness "Ohhhhh, yesssss," he recovered, braced, the entry slowing to a skin crawling delight as David pushed down. 

Walter's eyes closed in guilty, lush satisfaction, his head tipped back and David revelled in that, that he was doing this to his man. "Just," a push deeper, "a little bit... oh, god, yes," a deep hurt sound from Walter as David settled on his pubic bone, "there, yes, oh, yes," no words then, breathing heavy and deep as David rocked his hips a little, a cushioning gesture as he settled his ass onto Walter's full hard cock, then rested his hands onto Walter's shoulders, anchoring himself there. "I've got you just where I want you now, honey," he said it fiercely, meaning every word exactly as it sounded: victorious. 

Walter's hands skimmed up to David's waist, then higher to his breast, shoulders and neck. "Davey?" it was a question, checking to make sure this would work before he tried it, but David guessed what it was his man wanted and leaned down, taking it slow because Walter was buried in him to the hilt now, deep inside, and their lips touched, met and deepened towards a kiss. 

David flex his muscles experimentally, pushing Walter out just a little way, then push-fucking him back inside. He did it again, and again as their lips and tongues explored each other's mouth. But the kisses were too distracting, and the fucking was too distracting, so he pulled back to concentrate on the experience, the control of it, taking Walter this way while being taken - it was powerful. "Help me out here," he grunted it, finding his rhythm at last, the hot tight push of Walter's cock inside him, over that magic place, taking him higher and higher, his body hot, sweat pouring from him, his hips spread wide, legs and arms trembling with the strain of it, keeping the pace, wanting more, over and over, as Walter's hand found his cock, wrapped around it so gently, easing up and down almost shyly, such an unexpected but perfect thing as David bucked and rocked his hips. "Tighter," he hissed it and pushed his hips forward into Walter's grip, the movement rocking the cock inside him further, over and over inside, deeper. "Please, honey, please," as the pace grew frantic and Walter's hand was hard around him now, hard and perfect and pumping him with ownership and perfect pressure, just perfect, the counterpoint of that push inside, the fuck and the slide of their bodies into and against each other. "Walter," a gasp, almost a warning, and Walter held him harder, tight all along his shaft and then to the tip, holding the moment totally still as David shook, convulsed once tight around the cock inside him, then a long shuddering sigh as David came, pulsing his semen out in a sweet blood hot pulse to cover Walter's beautiful fingers and spread sticky and hot between their heaving slick bodies. 

And then David reared back, as if struck by lightning, fire inside as Walter came, the sound and the smell and the tight small quick quiver of Walter's spasms inside, heat and a wet soaking burn through into David's guts, as Walter's face closed into a simple dazed expression, and their eyes met, as David panted above Walter's heaving chest. As Walter slipped from David's slick slack heat, he reached out and pulled David down into his arms and David rested there, too tired to move, too tired to think. "Mmmmmm, Davey," Walter's voice was rough and gritty in his ear, "you love me so good," and David was kissed, thoroughly, ruthlessly kissed, until they were both breathless all over again. 

David snuggled down, stretching out his cramping legs with a sigh of real relief. "I'm getting too old to do this," he groaned and as he expected, was rewarded by Walter's muffled laughter. 

"Davey, Davey," the laughter was there, but muted, and so tender that David could have cried, just from that, from Walter saying his name that way, "Davey boy, you'll never get old, not to me," and they kissed again and settled down, as David grabbed the sheets back to cover them both and they slept, quite rightly, together. 

\--   
Gloria Lancaster -   
Two out of three people wonder where the other one has gone.


End file.
